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Hey Jealousy

The water filling the hotel bathtub was almost too warm, but the tub was larger and more comfortable than the one in your apartment. You sank into the water and hummed in pleasure as it washed away the sweat from the intense sex you’d had the night before. Well, technically it was still night, around 4:00am the last time you’d checked. Steve was sleeping quietly in the bed.

You shut your eyes and relaxed, tuning out the annoying buzz of the air conditioner in the next room.

“Can I?” Steve’s voice startled you, and you looked up to see him holding a washcloth and a bottle of your body wash.

“Join me?” you asked, wondering how a larger than average super soldier was going to fit into the tub with you unless he climbed on top of you.

“No, I want to bathe you, if that’s okay.” He sat down on the edge of the tub.

It wasn’t something he’d asked to do before. You discarded the errant thought that it was too intimate. “Sounds nice.”

He dipped the washcloth into the water and soaped it up. “I didn’t hurt you last night?”

“No, I’m good.” You were sore from the night before, and really, who wouldn’t be after having Captain America glove sex, but you didn’t want to worry him. He looked like a kicked puppy when he had anything to do with any discomfort you experienced.

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but instead of voicing it, he nudged your legs apart and gently rubbed the cloth between them. His eyes didn’t leave your face.

You couldn’t stop yourself from wincing when he brushed against your entrance.

The washcloth was set aside as a single finger probed carefully into you, then withdrew. “You don’t seem to be swollen, and you’re not bleeding, but I hate it when you lie to me.”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” And limit you to gentle vanilla sex indefinitely, which would be the biggest shame in the world. Kinky Steve was probably the hottest thing you had and would ever experience. “If I thought there was something wrong, I would have told you. Really.”

He was wearing the kicked puppy look you’d tried to avoid. “Next time, tell me.”

“There will be a next time?” you asked, hopeful.

“You’re incorrigible.” He chuckled. “I don’t want to stop...exploring new things, though.”

You grinned, all of the untouched bedroom territory racing through your brain.

“Within reason,” he added, narrowing his eyes at you, but the look in them was warm. He hummed a song you weren’t familiar with as he resumed slowly and thoroughly washing your body, from head to toe, then your hair.

By the time he was done, you were completely relaxed. Even the cooling water didn’t faze you. “I don’t know if I can get up now. I feel like jelly.”

He scooped you up out of the water, dripping all over the tile floor, and wrapped you in a towel. You noticed the suitcases were in a pile near the air conditioner, and there was coffee brewing in the coffeemaker.

“What did you want to do today?” you asked as he sat you on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower, and then we can have breakfast down in the lobby. They had a bunch of pamphlets for local attractions. I’m sure we can find something interesting to do.”

Getting ready for the day and continental breakfast were a pleasant blur. The staff seemed surprised by how much food Steve could put away. What they didn’t know was that this was his first breakfast. There would be another one in a few hours.

You wandered over to the pamphlets while Steve checked out of the hotel and picked up one about a nearby art museum and sculpture garden. You could see yourself spending an afternoon relaxing and reading in the sculpture garden.

Steve looked at the pamphlet over your shoulder. “The museum doesn’t open until 10:30, but we could hang out in the sculpture garden until then if you want.”

You nodded. “I have a book I’ve been reading that I’d like to finish.”

“I brought a couple sketchpads with me. I haven’t done much drawing lately.” He looked at the map on the pamphlet. “We can get there in 10 or 15 minutes.”

“Let’s go.”

You arrived and looked at all the sculptures, some modern, some classic, all donated by local artists over the last 75 years. The museum was still 90 minutes away from opening when you eventually settled on a bench and pulled out your ebook reader. You were quickly sucked into the story, but your stomach rumbled and drew you back into reality. You saw a pretzel vendor near the museum entrance.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a pretzel and a drink. What do you want?” you asked.

“A cinnamon sugar pretzel, if they have it, and rootbeer,” he replied, starting to grab his wallet.

“I’ll get it. You got the hotel last night.” Before he could argue, you walked away and headed to the vendor’s stand.

The line was long for it being only 10:00am. You didn’t think sculpture gardens and art museums were this popular. Hopefully, that meant the museum was going to be worth the visit.

When you headed back toward the bench with the pretzels, a container of cheese sauce and two drinks, you noticed a woman talking to Steve. When you got closer, it was apparent she was gorgeous and very interested in him if her body language was any indication.

You ignored the pang of what you convinced yourself was the need for an afternoon snack. It definitely wasn't jealousy. You moved a little closer, until you could overhear their conversation.

"Would you like to go out for lunch? I know an amazing Italian place. I guarantee you’ll love it," she purred, standing too close to him, hand on his arm.

He stepped back slightly, dislodging her hand. "It's been a real pleasure meeting you, ma'am, but I'm already seeing someone."

"Is it serious?" she asked, invading his personal space again. You gritted your teeth.

He nodded. "I only have eyes for her."

It was hard to describe the not entirely unpleasant flip flopping your heart was doing in your chest. Steve only had eyes for you, and it felt good to bask in it above all else. Your heart and mind fought a brief battle that ended in a stalemate. You eventually decided to give in and just bask in it for a while. It probably wouldn't hurt anything.

As she walked away, the confident sway of her hips unaffected by the rejection, you returned to Steve and offered him his soft pretzel and rootbeer.

“Thanks.” He smiled and sat back down on the bench, patting the spot next to him. You placed your pretzel on the bench next to you and sipped your drink.

“Did you make a new friend?” you asked, pretending you hadn’t eavesdropped.

“No,” he replied between bites. “She wasn’t after my friendship.”

“Was she after an exceedingly patriotic fine piece of ass?” you asked, just to see him blush.

You weren’t disappointed by the flush that disappeared beneath his collar. “Something like that, but I’m not that kind of man.”

“What about me?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“It was always different with you. You’re something special.” He leaned in to kiss you, but pulled back at the last second with a sad look in his eyes when he obviously remembered your rule against public displays of affection because of the paparazzi lurking around every corner.

You bit your lip and glanced around at the other parkgoers. You’d gone through worse in your life than appearing on a gossip blog, trashy magazine or celebrity news show. You grabbed his face between your hands and kissed him hard. The rest of the world became irrelevant background noise when your lips met. It was a long, deep kiss that didn’t stop until you were dizzy from the way your chest swelled at the broken barrier, or lack of oxygen. Maybe a combination of both.

You left your forehead pressed to his, hands still holding his face, long after your lips separated.

“Wow,” he breathed softly against your mouth.

“I...” you started, uncertain of what you wanted to say.

“No, I know.” He pulled you closer, almost into his lap. “I understand.”

You weren’t sure what he understood, but you weren’t really up for having that conversation in public. The moment was broken when you felt something wet soaking through your slacks. After several seconds, you realized what it was. “I’m sitting on the pretzel cheese.”

Steve started laughing and didn’t stop until he was done helping you wipe the cheese off of your ass with napkins and then the handkerchief he carried.

Prequel

Fan Mail

Fan Mail

NC-17 Romance

You send a piece of fan mail to Captain America. You never expected a reply, but you end up with a lot more than that. [Steve Rogers x Reader]

1/13/13

Completed ✓
9.9 26 Votes

Comments

This is one of my favorites! Are you going to do another sequel? Please do! The story isn't over yet

Cap's Girl Cap's Girl
7/22/15

lolz

Abi Barnes Abi Barnes
6/6/14

OMG this is amazing, so well written. It's the perfect balance of searingly hot and meltingly sweet.

Kittielarue Kittielarue
4/8/14

I love this story. I like how Steve isn't the most proper guy when it comes to it. It's really good!

AvengerNumber7 AvengerNumber7
1/18/14

I love this story. So often writers make Steve into a stuttering saint. It is refreshing to see that even though he's out of his time, he's still human and adaptable. Please update!